


Like Father, Like Son

by wargoddess



Series: A Family Affair [18]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: BDSM, Birthday Sex, Bloodplay, Frottage, Incest, M/M, Multi, PWP, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-12 02:17:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20125414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wargoddess/pseuds/wargoddess
Summary: It's Nero's birthday, and Vergil and Dante have planned a lovely gift for him... if Nero's strong enough to take it.





	Like Father, Like Son

It's always nice to find Vergil in a quiet mood -- although, Nero cottons on at once, it's a postcoital quiet. Vergil's naked on the white chaise in his ridiculously stylish condo, with a book open in one hand and Yamato resting in a sword-holder nearby. He's immaculate, as regal as ever even without a stitch on, but Nero can smell Dante, and sex, and blood. The fact that none of those things are visible now means that the fun's already over.

That's all right, though. Nero has grown to enjoy simply spending time in Vergil's company, whenever his father is willing to tolerate him. They talk sometimes, and the conversations are often strange, because Vergil is strange. But he's been a sponge for knowledge during his terrible life -- for example, apparently he actually read most of the books in the Temen-ni-gru library, before Dante destroyed it -- and if Nero is careful in his questions and respectful in manner, Vergil is willing to share some of what he's learned. He demands a price for this generosity, of course. Nero prefers to pay his in regular installments. In fact, he's been thinking about making another payment right this very night, so hopefully Vergil isn't as done as he seems.

Nero tests this now by shrugging off his coat, then propping his arms against the edge of the ironwork staircase which leads up to the loft, and Vergil's bed. Nero knows what he looks like, naked to the waist, his arms held suggestively in place, his pants hanging low (because he forgot to put on his belt that morning, but Vergil doesn't need to know that). It's just a little tease. Nero licks his lips so they'll be suggestively wet and tries to think innocent thoughts as he says, "Mind if I use your shower?"

Vergil's gaze drifts away from the book he's reading, although he doesn't actually look at Nero. He smiles. "One day, perhaps, I'll teach you to be subtle."

Nero grins. "Aww, come on, I'm not a subtle guy. Shouldn't I learn to work within my strengths?"

Now Vergil gazes at him, and the way his gaze roams Nero's body is anything but subtle itself. "You may not shower," he says. There's a soft note to his voice that makes Nero's cock twitch in automatic response. Then Vergil closes his book and slides off the chaise, coming over to circle Nero, his gaze like oil along Nero's skin.

Nero blushes and ducks his eyes, as he always does when his father inspects him like this, but he remains where he is, because he fucking likes it and he's not even going to pretend that he doesn't. "Okay," he says, "but, um, I gotta warn you, I've been fighting those damn lizard-demons. The fast ones? And I worked up a sweat doing it."

"Yes." Vergil, behind Nero now, leans close and breathes at the back of his neck. "You smell of battle and victory, and..." He pauses. Sniffs deeper, close enough for Nero to feel the heat of Vergil's skin against the nape of his neck. Nero's skin goosebumps uncontrollably. "Interesting. Did anything unusual happen while you were fighting these demons?"

Oh. Nero blushes again. "Uh, I guess? The last one actually surrendered to me. It said it would, uh, work for me, if I didn't kill it."

Vergil lets out a soft puff of laughter against the back of his neck. God, Nero's getting hard from Vergil _breathing_ on him, how ridiculous is that? It's why he's come; he's been so worked up since that fight. That, plus Vergil called him and said, "Meet us at my place," which is unusual enough that Nero's extra intrigued. 

"It bowed before your strength and invited you to lay claim," Vergil says. "Don't speak human nonsense when you mean a demon thing."

"Well, okay. I mean, uh, yeah. Didn't know you'd be able to smell it, though."

Vergil's lips brush his skin as he speaks. "I can't smell a conversation, no. But your scent is _particularly_ replete with claiming pheromones. That demon must have been stronger than usual." His voice drops to a purr. "You were tempted."

Shit. Nero swallows. Vergil's favorite method of torture is to force Nero to admit things he'd rather not face, so Nero's getting better about not bullshitting. Still not easy, though. "Y-yeah, I... I guess I was," he says, after a moment. He licks his lips and swallows. "Not really into lizards, tho." Even though that one had been basically the chief lizard among the bunch -- bigger and stronger, and more humanoid than the others. There had been a kind of beauty in its sleek lines...

"It would have taken a human shape if you'd commanded that, and adjusted the shape to your liking." Vergil kisses his shoulder very gently, and Nero's breath quickens. "It would've done anything else that you commanded, too. It would have _enjoyed_ whatever you did to it, short of death. You know that."

Fuck. Dick's definitely hard now, and not just because of Vergil. Nero shuts his eyes, seeing the demon cowering before him again, and involuntarily he bares his teeth for a moment. Even to his own ears, his voice sounds rougher when he says, "I know."

"But you killed it."

"Yeah? It's not as if the thing suddenly saw things my way and decided to fight for humankind. It was just trying to save its own skin."

"Ah." A cascade of warm breath down Nero's neck. Vergil's lips are near his ear, now. "You killed it because it was unworthy of you."

"Maybe." Shit, that's a lie, and Vergil will know. "Okay, yeah. I just... ugh." He feels his lip curl with remembered distaste. "I don't like cowards."

Vergil kisses the side of his neck as a reward for his honesty, and Nero bites his lip. It's weird. The conversation is making him remember those moments on the battlefield, when he'd gazed down at the demon's bowed head and found himself breathing harder, one hand twitching with the urge to grab the spines at the back of the demon's head and force it to the ground. What would he have done then? God, he's so hard. But with Vergil present, he _also_ can't help aching for his father's touch. Vergil's right there. One word and Nero will drop to his knees. Anytime, anything Vergil wants. Shouldn't both of those impulses, the picky possessiveness and the slavish eagerness, conflict with each other? But they don't. 

It's more freaky, fucked-up demon shit, and sometimes Nero resents how much that measly one-quarter of himself pushes and pulls at the rest. Sometimes, though, when it doesn't obviously do any harm... he likes it. Or rather, he likes what it gains him.

Like _Vergil_, who nuzzles the edge of Nero's jaw, breathing more of the scent there and making pleased sounds at whatever he reads from it. Nero understands now that Vergil would never have touched him if his demon had not awakened. Not out of any sense of honor or morality, but simply because Vergil is too demon to be interested in a mere human. It's the monster in him that Vergil likes best.

"It is our nature, you understand," Vergil says. "Those of us with the strength to rule. We don't want blind obedience from riffraff." His fingers curl around Nero's jaw, and Nero lifts his chin to Vergil, because of course he does. "We want fine, healthy, powerful demons serving us, and we want them to _want_ to serve." 

Nero's only half listening. Vergil has drawn a finger over Nero's lips, and Nero opens his mouth, daring to touch that finger with a tongue. _Please_, he thinks, hungrily. _Please, I need to please you --_

Vergil lets out a long breath, his hand coming up to caress a circle on Nero's chest, right over his heart. "I want so badly to be selfish with you. To keep you all for myself." When Nero shudders violently, Vergil chuckles. "But you are my son, and you've proven your worth. That means you deserve the best of everything."

He steps back, and Nero drops his arms and turns to him in mute protest. Vergil chuckles, putting a hand on Nero's chest. "Calm yourself. I have a gift for you."

"A gift?" Nero's breathing hard and pressing himself a little against Vergil's hand. He's definitely got a gift in mind, if Vergil's in the mood. "What?"

Vergil laughs, leaning into kiss him. He keeps it light and quick, but Nero follows after him, stopped only by that firm hand. "Something from both Dante and me. You'll need to take those off, though." 

His gaze flicks down to Nero's pants, lingering where they've slipped a little and the tip of his cock has worked its way above his waistband. He's got boxers on, but his dick's just that hard. Vergil's gaze lingers for so long that Nero hooks a thumb over the waist of his pants, tugging them down just a little further. _Come on. You want me, take me._ Vergil utters a very low growl, barely loud enough to hear, and slides the hand on Nero's chest down. Down. His thumb grazes that taut cockhead lightly, but Nero's so sensitive that he makes a little sound of need as Vergil unfastens his pants for him, tugging them open and letting them slip down over Nero's narrow hips... 

And he steps back, leaving Nero with his literal dick in his hands and a groan caught in his teeth. "There. Now come," Vergil says, turning away. 

"Fucking _asshole_," Nero mutters. With a deeply frustrated sigh, Nero steps out of his pants and boots, then follows Vergil toward the center of the room.

Beside the white chaise is the holder for Yamato, which is basically just an elegant brass stand with a ring on it. For the first time, however, Nero notices that the top of the brass stand is covered in elaborate worked decorations all arranged around a stylized dragon. Vergil presses the dragon, and it sinks into the stand with a click. A hidden button?

Which opens a hidden spiral staircase, which curves around the chaise, wending down into the floor.

"Can you get any more dramatic?" Nero asks, in spite of his fascination.

Vergil half-smiles. "Of course I can." He heads down, and Nero can't do anything but follow.

At the bottom of the stair is Vergil's vault. Nero's always known that Vergil had one; his father might not be a devil hunter, but it is demonic nature to claim trophies after a good kill, and Vergil kills often. He'd thought that Vergil would have his vault elsewhere, though -- at one of his sales operations, maybe, behind sophisticated locks and spells. He sells the lesser Devil Arms sometimes; they're valuable merchandise.

But no, it's here, instead. Not locked. No spells. Not protected at all, other than via the hidden button, which isn't really that difficult a trick to figure out. (Nero feels sure he would've found it, if he'd bothered to look.) The room is as big around as the condo upstairs, but the whole of its wall space has been occupied by sealed glass compartments of varying sizes, each of which displays a Devil Arm. The compartments aren't locked. It's all just... there. Anyone could walk in and take them. Then again, to get any of them, a thief would have to get past Vergil. Okay, that's a pretty hefty deterrent, but still.

That's not the real prize of the collection, though. Floating in a column of light at the center of the room is... Dante.

Nero inhales and walks closer, fascinated despite himself. Dante is in some kind of stasis. He does not move or react as Nero walks around him, and he isn't breathing. His eyes are shut. He's nude, except for some delicate silvery bracelets and anklets -- and a muzzle. No, really; there's some kind of contraption arranged over the lower half of his face, clasped at the back of his head, that feels of demonic energy and looks like a framework designed to keep him from biting anyone. The jewelry is lovely: thin white-metal chains lacing his skin, so delicate that they look like gossamer. Also demonic, though Nero can't figure out what they're for. 

Like this, so still, bathed in light, he's a sculpture. he lies mostly prone, his torso bowed back and arms and legs dangling. His cock is the only thing marring the arch of his body, because it's obviously hard as marble, jutting forth from his body at a very noticeable angle. Nero's never seen Dante look so beautiful. Reflexively he lifts a hand to touch, then lowers it. He has no idea what's going on here, but it's never a good idea to randomly touch things in a Devil Arms vault. Also, that muzzle has Nero suspicious. Then, too, it's obvious that Vergil has arranged this little display, making artwork of his twin, for Nero's benefit... and Vergil gives nothing for free.

Vergil walks around Dante as well, sighing a little as he gazes at his brother in palpable admiration. "I built this cage," he says to Nero, watching Dante, "to hold Dante's soul, on the inevitable day that I took it from him in battle."

As a Devil Arm. Yeah, always awkward talking with Vergil, who clearly still believes that killing his twin and ripping out his soul to use as a weapon is the height of brotherly love. Especially since Nero suspects that Vergil's got a cage somewhere around here ready for Nero's soul, should the time ever come.

(His gaze drifts back to Vergil. Vergil would make Nero into a sword, he feels certain. It's not what Nero would choose, and his nature would resist the reshaping, but in the end he would yield, because he loves his father and would want Vergil to keep him close. _And what sort of Devil Arm_, whispers a thought in the back of Nero's mind, _could be made from...?_

He beats this thought down, crushes it beneath his heel, commands it to never dare raise its head in his presence again.)

Vergil glances at him, and the barest of smiles touches his lips for a moment.

Change of subject time. "Guess you, uh, decided not to waste the cage?" Nero asks.

"It's no waste. The cage holds anything in stasis, physically or temporally. It's quite secure; I've found it especially useful for interrogations." He shrugs casually, while Nero thinks, _Oh, right, interrogations, why didn't I think of that, of course._ He doesn't want to know. Vergil continues, "And as you've no doubt guessed, it's convenient for other activities as well."

Nero snorts in amusement, but he can't take his eyes off Dante. Strange to see Dante so still. His uncle is so vibrant a man, with so much of his personality radiating from his skin, that without it, and lacking the weariness that's like a second coat for him, he looks as young as Vergil. Vergil's even shaved him properly, for once, to exaggerate the effect. His face is touchably smooth.

And Nero feels a sudden, intense desire to touch him.

Which is not good. Vergil's always kind of hinky about Nero touching Dante, but it's gotten worse since Nero went all demon lord a while back. Hoping Vergil hasn't noticed, Nero says, "So, is he, uh, aware?"

"No. For that, I have to remove the temporal stasis. I can do that now -- but it looked like you were enjoying the view."

Shit. Nero's really glad he didn't grow up with Vergil. Wouldn't have been able to hide a damn thing from him. He fists his hand at his side, so Vergil will know he doesn't intend to overstep his bounds. "Uh. Yeah, a little."

"You may," Vergil says. Nero blinks at him. Vergil is watching Nero from the shadows of the room, his pale face calm but gaze intent in that way that usually means he wants something. He nods toward Nero's now-clenched fist. "Touching him won't disturb the stasis. Just don't step fully into the light yourself."

Oh? Curious now, Nero reaches up to touch Dante. He confines his touch to the man's nearer thigh, just stroking his skin. No response. He takes hold of Dante's calf and tugs a little, and is intrigued to see that Dante can be moved around within the column of light. Nero pulls him closer, and down, so that he floats at about the height of Nero's waist, laid out like a smorgasbord.

Something abruptly reorients within him, like the flip of a switch sending electricity down his spine. He tilts his head to crack his neck, stretches his shoulders, swallows. Vergil has said that he can touch. Putting a hand on Dante's belly, he slides it up over ridges of muscle, feeling the held tension of a breath that Dante cannot release. Nero's fingernails make the faintest of rustling sounds as they graze through the light hair on Dante's chest, and suddenly his claws materialize. He stops his hand, claws denting Dante's skin, almost-but-not-quite disturbed by what he's feeling. What _is_ he feeling? He can't articulate it.

Licking suddenly-dry lips, Nero looks up at Vergil. How his father watches so. "I almost don't want to wake him up."

"Then don't. Use him, leave him when you're done, I'll wake him up later."

Nero twitches, just a little, before he can stop himself. _Use him_. That's not. Not right. He pushes back. "But I want to be able to hear him -- "

_scream_

" -- enjoy himself," he finishes, stumbling a little. Fuck, what is _wrong_ with him?

"Is that really what you want?" Vergil's voice is dark velvet. "_His_ enjoyment?"

"I..." He looks down at Dante, and is at first horrified, then awed, to realize that he _doesn't_ care if Dante enjoys himself. "Oh, God," he whispers. He's shaking all over, breathing fast.

"God's not interested in the likes of us," Vergil says. "What do you want, Nero?"

There are so many thoughts in his mind, so many urges rising to the surface of his skin; it's chaos inside him. He wants to... to hurt Dante. That's bad enough, but it's not all he wants. There's something else he's been craving this whole while. And as he gazes down at Dante and hungers to bleed him, to conquer him, to _wreck_ him and leave him shuddering on the floor, he lifts his gaze again to Vergil, who has lifted an eyebrow.

(Vergil would be a sword, of course. One made of ice. It would not burn going in, the way Yamato does; it would feel good as it tore at you and froze you from the inside out and made you sleepy. Made you like itself. You would die cold and beautiful, at peace, and on your knees.)

Then Nero understands exactly what he's feeling.

"I want what you want, Father," he says. "What do you want me to do to him?"

Vergil closes his eyes for just a moment. When he focuses on Nero again, his eyes are silver limned in blue. Then he lifts an elegant hand, extends it into the light, and says in the demon tongue, "Forward."

Time starts, and Dante's chest rises sharply beneath Nero's hand as he sucks in a breath. Nero is tense, ready. That muzzle. And yes -- just as Nero suspected, an instant later Dante's eyes open and they are red, red, red. He tenses like wire and lunges for Nero, or tries to. But though he manages to curl his torso, his wrists and ankles do not move within the light. It's as if the silver chains have anchored him to the very air.

"Subdue him," Vergil says.

The words send pure, violent joy radiating throughout his whole body. "Yes, Father," says Nero.

Then he slides a hand up his uncle's body again, slow, until he's able to curl it 'round Dante's throat. Dante's demon hisses at him from within the muzzle, teeth still human-blunt but bared in an obvious warning snarl. Vergil is the one who got it hot and bothered and then put it in stasis. It probably doesn't want Nero right now.

But Nero does not care what Dante -- any version of Dante -- wants. 

He leans down to watch Demon!Dante's face, tightening his hand around its throat with slow inexorability. "Hey, again," he says, grinning in genuine pleasure. He loves Dante's demon. It's a fucking nightmare to deal with and it's probably going to wear his guts as a necklace one day, but until that day, it is the most magnificent demon Nero's ever seen. So unbelievably powerful, and so _vicious_.

(_If **you** had been the one to offer yourself to me..._ It's another thought he can't let himself think, not the least because Vergil doesn't want him to think it. He puts it in the Corner of Nope, over by the erotic patricide idea.)

The thing tries to lunge at him again, its face distorted in fury. Beautiful. And unacceptable. With a soft snarl of his own, Nero slams it back into place with a crushing grip, taking a handful of hair to reinforce the gesture. Then he's out of hands, so he summons the spectral wings of his lower-tier form, wrapping one claw-hand around Dante's nearer arm to secure it. The bracelets must be keeping the demon immobile and in human shape, but Nero knows better than to trust demonic jewelry. The demon's arm nearly vibrates with strain against the bracelet and beneath his hand, fingers curling in a futile attempt to bury claws in Nero's guts.

"That's not the game we're playing today," he tells the demon. It ignores him, still trying to push up against his hand. Nero shakes his head -- and sinks his claws into its throat. He's careful about it, angling to avoid the more vital arteries, even though he's fairly certain Dante could heal anything short of having his head taken off. But he's been in the demon's position before, claws buried in his own throat, and he's noticed that Vergil is careful when he does this. The care is important. There's a point past which, even for them, pain is just pain.

Up to that point, though -- His claws pierce Dante's trachea and vocal chords. The beast tries to fight this, its roar turning to a gargle, and then silenced entirely. Meanwhile, however, Nero slides his other spectral claw-hand down Dante's belly, and ever-so-delicately draws a thin line of blood along the underside of that ready, unsatisfied cock.

The demon goes still, despite the blood running from its mouth. Then its eyes shift to Nero, who smiles. "Yeah," he says to it. "You want to keep being an ass? Or you want something a little better?"

It bares its teeth -- still Dante's square ones for now, though Nero has seen the demon turn Dante's entire lower face into a nest of needles. That's a good sign, that it's still bothering to look pretty, though the silent snarl isn't. Nero withdraws his claws a little anyway, to let its vocal chords heal and to lend some positive reinforcement to his words. The message should be clear: act up and get hurt, obey and get pleasure.

It stops snarling, and Nero withdraws his claws entirely, stroking its throat with his blood-wet fingertips instead. It isn't cowed, not in the slightest. He can see it watching him and calculating its next attack. That's the thing about Dante's demon; it's not mindless at all -- just so horrifically savage that it seems so. Always important to remember. 

But as Nero draws his fingers down its torso, painting red lines that make his mouth water and fighting to keep his claws from returning, he finds himself wondering if Dante's savagery is really so unusual.

"Hmm," Vergil says. He's standing right behind Nero. Nero doesn't jump, but he didn't see Vergil move. "He -- Dante, I mean -- hasn't re-emerged. I thought he might, with you."

Nero lifts his hand and licks the blood from his fingers without thinking about it, not taking his eyes off Dante. "Did you?"

He feels Vergil's gaze on him. "I did. Dante only lets go in the presence of someone who can handle the demon within him. But I see that's not a problem for you anymore." He focuses on Dante again. "Is he subdued?"

"Not yet." Dante's cock, which had sagged a little, is beautifully hard again now, probably because Nero's been caressing it with a claw-hand. The first slice has healed, but his claw-hands have no soft parts; other hairline cuts have opened and closed, and blood now streaks the shaft. Nero pulls in that wing and bends to swallow his way down Dante's cock, stopping only when his lips are flush with gray pubic hair. The demon inhales, whole body jerking in a way that's -- for once -- not an attempt to get free or kill someone. As Nero's lips slide up slowly, sucking gently to make sure all the blood is gone, the demon's growl rises in pitch and volume to a soft croon, and it arches harder against its bonds, until finally Nero lets the tip pop free of his lips. Then he moves up Dante's body, stroking his flesh, sweeping his tongue back and forth to scrub away the blood-streaks that he drew. While he does this, the demon breathes harder, moaning and lifting itself to meet him, until he reaches the beast's collarbone. He lifts his head to look at the thing. It knows damn well what he wants. 

And with a rough chuckle that somehow conveys _Sorry about that whole trying-to-tear-your-face-off thing, just a habit, we're good now_ \-- it lifts and turns its chin away, offering Nero its throat.

Nero can no more resist this than he could the blood. He lunges, and when his teeth tear the demon's skin, they're sharp. He didn't mean to do that, really he didn't, but there's so much blood and it just tastes so good and he can _hear_ more pumping inside Dante, _feel_ it when he presses his tongue against the carotid artery, he pants and can't get enough air, _God what would it feel like to bite his throat while fucking him_ \--

Vergil touches his back, very gently. It's not even a warning, just a reminder of Vergil's presence, but it's enough to help Nero's mind reassert control. Nero may tear Dante's throat out if he wants, that touch says; for the time being, Vergil does not care. But it is a thing _Nero_ should care about. There's an art to this, as Vergil has taught him. Care matters.

So, with great reluctance, Nero lifts his head and puts his teeth back to humanshape. His own demon, which is so much a part of him in this moment that he is surprised to find himself still able to think of it as a separate thing, sighs in disappointment. _One day?_ it asks plaintively.

Yes. Dante's soul is Vergil's to possess, but one day Nero and his demon will drink as much of his uncle's blood as they want. Until then...

When Nero straightens, Dante's demon is looking at him with unmistakable hunger in its gaze. Nero feels himself smile as he licks a stray streak of blood from the corner of his lips. "Pretty," it says. It has growled this word into his ear while holding him down and fucking him half to death. He enjoyed every moment.

"Thanks," Nero says. "You, too." 

It grins and sits up again, as much as the bracelets allow. It does so slowly, clearly telegraphing its movements for him, so Nero does not immediately move to put it down. "Moooooorrre," it growl-purrs.

"Yeah. Definitely more." But he turns to Vergil. "_Now_ he's subdued." 

The sentence comes out in a basso rumble that vibrates the room. Shit. He clears his throat and puts it back to normal too.

"I can see that," Vergil drawls. "Very good. Now." He takes hold of Dante's ankle and lifts it a foot or so. When he lets go, the demon hisses and pulls against the bond for a moment, but its ankle is stuck like a rat on a glue trap, held by the anklet. Message received: Dante can't move, but Vergil can move him. And... Nero? Seeing that Nero understands, Vergil turns away. Belatedly Nero notices that there's another chaise in this chamber -- black and narrow, unlike the wide white one upstairs. When Vergil drapes himself across this, he seems to float amid the darkness, an indistinct pale figure silhouetted by the souls of slaughtered monsters.

"Arrange him how you like, and take him," Vergil says from the dark. "But neither of you is allowed release. Not yet." 

Nero's already turning the demon over, pushing its knees around and its head down and then pushing himself into Dante, unceremoniously. His blood is pounding, his thoughts bright and hot and full of chaos -- but Vergil's voice grounds him. He's breathing hard, his voice rough, but he makes himself answer even as he gives in to lust. "Yes, Father."

The demon groans in delight. Nero has bound its wrists at the small of its back. It can move its fingers, and could probably muster enough raw strength to gut Nero in this position -- but it does not. It wants what Nero's giving it.

"Harder," Vergil commands, and Nero snarls and takes hold of the thing's shoulder so he can really get in there. More commands follow, and they are delicious. "Slower, let me see his face," and "Bite him there; human teeth only," and "Calmly, Nero. Your demon cannot rule you, or the pleasure will end too soon." It feels so _good_ \-- both fucking Dante, and obeying Vergil. Dante lies before him, helpless, gorgeous, and he is Nero's due, Nero's reward for being the son that Vergil never wanted but still finds worthy of pride. And Dante is Vergil's, too, isn't he? So when he sees that Dante is on the verge of orgasm, Nero sets his claws into the meat of Dante's shoulderblades, rakes down to the bone, and sighs in satisfaction when the demon shouts in mingled outrage and pain-maddened delight. _There_, Nero thinks. _Now we both please him._

The voice from the dark turns indulgent. "He's been so patient, my Dante. So generous with his suffering. Doesn't he deserve a gift, too? Let him go, now."

Nero snarls softly as his thoughts begin to dissolve, and grabs the demon's hair to haul its head back. "Scream for me," he breathes, and it writhes in pleasure at the command alone. Then its groans rise into roars, broken by the force that Nero is using as he keeps fucking it, and it's like someone has poured oil on the fire within Nero. _More._ He grabs that sweet cock and works it and yes, then the demon screams, its voice breaking and whole body straining as it comes around Nero's hand.

It goes on like that for a while. Dante's demon is ravenous, and so is Nero. Nero fucks until they are both raw, bites until his jaw aches, sucks until his throat is sore, makes Dante's demon come until it finally twists to try and escape him, hissing wordlessly for him to stop. When Nero in a fever of recklessness pulls off the thing's muzzle, it does not immediately try to tear his face off. He actually gets in a long, mouth-scouring kiss before its teeth turn to razors and it snaps at him. That's just perfunctory, though -- a love-snap. It's too pleased with him to kill him, at least for now. He laughs, feeling bizarrely honored.

Through it all, Nero has ridden the edge of his own need, _aching_ for relief but anchored by that soft command of _Not yet_. And when Dante is at last done -- the demon slinks off to tend its wounds, and Nero's uncle laughs breathlessly at him through sweaty, bloody hair -- Nero pulls him out of the column of light and drops him to the floor before turning to Vergil. His breath is a harsh pant. His claws still drip with Dante's blood. The world has taken on a peculiar golden tint. None of it matters. Only one person here matters. "Father," he groans. It's a plea.

Vergil, watching from his couch in the dark, smiles. Nero sees the gleam of his teeth. "Take his place," he commands Nero.

Will Vergil leave him floating there, unsatisfied, the way he left Dante? Nero cannot help making a sound of distress. But if Vergil wants his suffering... Taking a deep breath and never looking away from Vergil, Nero steps backward. He can feel the light, and its magic, on his back. Another step. He's mostly in it now. Another step, and the column of light envelops him. He waits to be frozen in place, to lose awareness of time, or perhaps even to wake up and find himself dead and transformed into a sword. None of those thoughts frighten him. To have Vergil's hand on him, he would risk much.

He does rise into the middle of the column, floating unsupported a few feet off the floor. And a moment later, Vergil steps into the light with him.

"Very, _very_ good," he says, as Nero trembles at the praise -- and with pure lust, because Vergil is rising in the light as well, a god of silver and shadow, an angel whose wings are too black to see. He pulls Nero close, and Nero folds around him helplessly, needing everything. "You've served me so well, Nero. My beautiful boy."

And at last, at last, Vergil's hand closes around his cock. Both of them, together, caught in his hand and pleasured in tandem. It's almost too much because he's super sensitive after all he's done, but the borderline pain is part of it; he needs that as much as the pleasure, at this point. Nero shuts his eyes, feeling tears run down his face. It feels so good. He's on the edge already, but he can't let go yet. He needs his father's permission. He needs... he needs... he doesn't know what. 

"I love you," he blurts. They're the wrong words; love has no meaning for demons. But Vergil lays a taloned hand on his cheek for a moment, thumb capturing one of Nero's tears and then stroking it over his own lips.

"I know." He bends and kisses salt into Nero's mouth. Then he moves his mouth to Nero's ear, his voice soft as night. "For you, I would become a gauntlet, to strengthen your right arm."

Oh, God. Oh, God.

"Now," Vergil says, and Nero is gone.

He loses a bit of time. Maybe it's the light. Maybe it's just that good. Doesn't matter.

When he is aware again, they're upstairs on Vergil's white chaise. He sits up immediately, but there's no blood on the cloth, or on his skin. Did somebody finally give him that shower? Why doesn't he remember it?

Dante hooks him back down and drapes an arm across his chest. It looks casual, but Nero can feel the gesture's strength; he won't be sitting up again until Dante lets him. When he looks at Dante in puzzlement, Dante sighs and nudges Nero's face aside again so he can resume what he'd been doing: licking his way along Nero's jaw with steady, methodical strokes. Okay. Not the most efficient way to get clean, but clearly effective.

A faint mechanical clanking sound catches Nero's attention, and he turns to see Vergil walking up the spiral steps from the vault, as the steps rise and close off the hidden stairwell beneath him. Vergil has stopped to put on pants at some point, but still no vest or shirt, which makes him look unnervingly like Dante for once. He's carrying something in both hands. Something metal.

"What's -- " Nero starts to sit up again, but Dante's arm turns to steel and he can't. "Fuck, Dante, what the hell?"

Dante blinks at his arm as if he hadn't noticed having one before. "Shit." He goes still for a moment, and there is a flicker of crimson around his irises before he grimaces and removes his arm. "Damn demon _likes_ you. Sorry, kid."

That's when everything Nero did to Dante in the vault comes flooding back into his memory. His face goes hot, and he squirms a little as he sits up. "Uh. Um." _Are you okay?_ he wants to ask, but it somehow feels beyond wrong. Insulting, maybe. And unnecessary. Dante's obviously okay. Vergil did say this whole business was something he volunteered for, too. But Nero is human enough to fret.

There is a metallic clank on the chaise beside him, and Nero twitches around to see that Vergil has put a gauntlet there. It's a beautiful thing -- gleaming silver, covered in elaborate filigreed etchings and demonic runes from the shoulder-pauldron all the way down to the finger cuffs. It's more like the sleeve of a suit of armor than just a gauntlet... but Nero can feel the power in it. He can't help reaching out, running his fingers over that smooth metal, and shivering with the touch of a mighty demon's soul.

"Its name is Paladin," Vergil says. "I made it from the first demon to ever defeat me in battle. It wasn't so lucky in the rematch."

Reverently, Nero picks it up. The thing thrums in his hands, responding at once to his own power: yes, it's compatible with him. _Eager_ to be his, in fact. Holding the gauntlet, feeling its hunger to be owned, to be used, he inhales sharply and thinks, without quite meaning to, _Scream for me_.

The gauntlet shimmers, dissolves -- and with a faint eldritch shriek that makes his skin prickle, it reappears on his right arm. Climbing to his feet, Nero gazes at his now-armored Devil Bringer and bares his teeth in a smile. It's magnificent, power and beauty in the perfect combination.

But. One day... His gaze slides to Vergil, who watches him, smiling. One day maybe he'll have something even better. And for the first time, this thought doesn't bother Nero at all.

"Nice," says Dante, chin-pointing at the gauntlet. "Happy Probably Day, kid."

Nero blinks. He remembers Kyrie explaining to Dante that no one knew exactly when Nero had been born, because he'd been a few days old when someone dropped him off at the orphanage, and already he'd been stronger and more developed than normal for a newborn. So Credo and Kyrie had arbitrarily decided to pick a date three days before his drop-off anniversary, and call that the day he'd probably been born. But Dante had told this to Vergil?

And. Vergil had given him. A birthday gift. They both had.

This time Nero's clenched hand is reflexive, and he bends his gaze to the gauntlet so that neither of them will see when his eyes start stinging. "Um. You guys. This is amazing."

"It will do," Vergil says. "For now."

After Nero vanishes the gauntlet into etherspace, Dante hooks him back down onto the couch and pins him again. Vergil climbs onto the couch as well this time, though he spoons behind Dante. Nero's just a little sad at that. He'd hoped... well. But then Vergil's arm drapes over them both, long fingers entangling with Dante's where they press into Nero's chest to hold him in place. Dante's hand eases up as soon as Vergil joins it. They're sharing the work of keeping Nero right where they want him.

_For now_, purrs his demon. Vergil is right there, and tired now. How long will Nero wait? Take his heart and --

"Fucking _quit_ that," Nero snaps, sending the demon into the Nope Corner to think about its life choices. It sulks a little, but goes to sleep pretty quickly. Good sex usually shuts it up.

"Stop talking to yourself and go to sleep, idiot," Dante mutters. He sounds tired, understandably. Vergil, Nero notes, is quietly asleep already. Not worried at all about his son's murdery inclinations -- which, Nero realizes with some irritation, Vergil has just spent the whole evening deliberately stoking, with Dante's willing assistance.

He's never, ever, going to understand his father or his uncle. But he can love them anyway, even without that.

With a heavy sigh that is more contented than he likes to admit, Nero settles down to rest. For now.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this a few weeks ago, but put it aside because it felt kind of incoherent. After some editing, I think it works now. My headcanon is that Vergil absolutely loves having a son who shares his own sadistic tendencies -- which I think is canonical; was replaying DMC5 the other night and noticed that both Nero and V seem to take great pleasure in the ways they deliver the final blow to their enemies. Compared to them, Dante is mercifully quick, obviously more into the fight than the kill. Anyway, now that Nero's a demon lord too, Vergil almost can't help trying to push him past his human moral limits, moulding him and making him more of a chip off the old block. That's canonical too, IMO; during the fight between Nero and Vergil, if you go down (which I did many times before I finally beat him), Vergil taunts Nero into getting back up, saying things like, "I'm disappointed in you, Nero." As if he *wants* Nero to defeat him. So this fic felt like a natural extension of that taunt.
> 
> Also, this is in fulfillment of an anon prompt I got on Tumblr a while back: "A *short* prompt for “A Family Affair” where Vergil notices Nero’s been a little down or distracted by something & he has an inkling that its to do with the new power shift in their dynamics. To make it up to him, because after all, he did allow him supervised indulgences, one day when Nero comes home, Vergil has Dante all splayed out, begging and panting, the beast having been groomed into quiescence just for Nero to finally be able to let go without fear of being gutted - hope you like "
> 
> Ha ha, nonny! Not short at all. Sigh.


End file.
